WHERE THE POTAWATOMIS ROAMED

Abigail FoerstnerCHICAGO TRIBUNE

For the most part, life was calm and upright. One visitor to the area wrote in 1909, ''Morgan Park is dryer than its location on the highest point of land in Cook County would justify. If one of the residents of the community is detected carrying home two bottles of ginger ale and a pint of lemon pop, the word immediately flies around the village that a horrible orgy is about to take place.''

The area attracted professional people who commuted to downtown Chicago on the train, and lifelong residents still like to swap train stories.

Edna White, wife of Robert White, grew up in Beverly in a home on Wood Street just across a field from the 103d Street stop on the commuter line.

''My father used to almost roll out of bed and across the field to the train,'' White says with a laugh. ''He always waited for the bell to ring before he left the house, and one morning he was running through that field and the minister saw him lose both his shoes on the way to the train. He hadn`t tied them.''

Lane`s maternal grandfather had a feed and grain store in downtown Chicago and also commuted by train. ''One night the train was leaving, and he was running like sin with two bags of groceries to catch it. He got the two bags on the back steps but he couldn`t make it on himself.''

Lane says the conductor thoughtfully took in the bags and unloaded them at the 111th Street stop so his grandfather could find them at the station when he alighted from the next train to reach Morgan Park.

Sauermann is still living at the house near the old Lane homestead where his parents moved in 1927, their second home in the area. ''My dad was an engineer at the Chicago Stockyards. The stockyards were always looking for white-collar help,'' he says. ''The money was good but the environment wasn`t. Beverly Hills was a haven for the white-collar stockyard workers because the yards weren`t too far away.''

In the 1920s, the grocers and milkmen still delivered their goods by horse and wagon. ''When the ice wagon came by in summer, the kids would jump on the back of the wagon and pick up little bits of ice to eat,'' Sauermann says.

But the day of the horse and buggy was fading. Old-timers recall electric as well as motorized vehicles making their appearance. Commonwealth Edison operated electric-powered service trucks in the area in the 1920s, but sometimes the battery would run out on the 111th Street hill.

The hills provided hours of sledding in winter. ''Most of the churches had bobsleds, and there was always a big gang at the top of the hill at 111th Street every night there was snow,'' Lane says.

Few cars were around to get in the way, but the children had to keep on the lookout for trains. ''One night a small kid was coasting down the hill when we saw a train, but he couldn`t hear us shouting,'' Lane says. The train was going slow and the sled scooted right between the wheels with the boy still riding, Lane says. ''He got off on the other side of the tracks unharmed.''

Morgan Park schoolchildren attended the Western Avenue Elementary School, at 110th Street and Western Avenue, until it was torn down in 1931. Beverly students attended the Barnard Elementary School, 104th and Charles Streets, named for Alice Barnard. Graduates of both schools went on to Morgan Park High School, which has expanded from its original building at 1744 W. Pryor Ave., opened in 1916.

Beverly and Morgan Park residents suffered familiar losses in the 1930s Depression. ''Some people lost their homes or businesses. The Morgan Park Trust and Savings Bank went under, but people got most of their money eventually,'' Killie says.

The Beverly Bank survived the Depression and continues to serve the communities. With other local businesses and neighborhood associations, it helped establish the Beverly Area Planning Association after World War II. The association hired a staff and went into full-time operation in 1971 when the two communities` identity threatened to crumble under the stress of racial tension.

Neighborhood, civic groups and churches united under the association to fight panic peddling of homes by real-estate brokers and to quell community fears that integration would last only as long as it took the communities to change from white and black to all black.

''The main thing was to try to persuade blacks and whites to live as neighbors,'' Robert White says. The communities succeeded. Today, they are racially and ethnically mixed and attract affluent professional residents from other city neighborhoods and the suburbs. The hillside homes remain architectural gems of another era and have become increasingly popular among couples seeking vintage 19th Century charm in a 20th Century metropolis.